My Dog Just Died

This is complicated but my dog just died.  She lives with my ex-husband, who I call my co-parent.  The kids just called, crying, close to hysterical, saying that they were camping and their dog was dying.  From start to finish it was half an hour.  She was fine, playing with them, and then she was dying, and then she died.  I got the call about 15 minutes ago.

I am blogging this because if ever there was a trigger this is it.  That sudden call that says my children are in pain and I can’t be there for them.  And the adrenalin rush that spells trouble.  I am trying to control myself, steady my emotions, to ground myself in the fact that this doesn’t have to rock my boat to the point of sinking.  I can weather this storm.  My children need me.  I am supposed to have them starting tomorrow and I need to be there for them, to be a strong loving presence so they can feel safe to grieve.

Blogging to me is saying that I can’t deal with this inside so I need to get it out.  I have such conflicted feelings.  I was married for 11 years and we were together for 13.  Since then he and I still talk a few times a week and we have every week since we separated 4 1/2 years ago.  I still love him.  I always will.  I have zero romantic feelings for him but I will always be in love with him.  To me being in love with someone is a once in a lifetime thing, and I have been blessed enough to have it twice over.  My co-parent is married now to a woman that is so kind and loving to my kids.  We are like one big dysfunctional family.  We all go to the kids’ stuff and we all get along while we are there.  My co-parent and I make all of the decisions for the kids together.

So I feel like I am losing another piece of my past with him.  We picked the dog out together.  I was so scared of dogs.  I was so worried that she would bite me.  She was just a puppy.  I potty trained her and fed her and watered her and brushed her.  And when we separated and I had to leave her behind I was heartbroken.  It was so hard.  But I knew that she was in an amazingly loving home and that I could visit her.

How do I let go of one more piece of who I was and what I had?  And how do I reach out to my children and show them that this is life and that it should make us love deeper and quicker.  That this shouldn’t cause us to withdraw and become fearful of life.

My son is like me.  He sees life as a glass half empty.  He sees what the world is lacking and where the sharp edges hurt us.  He misses out on all that the world has to offer and all of the beauty that is our lives.  He is afraid to love, afraid to trust, afraid to hurt.  

My daughter is a ray of sunshine.  Nothing gets her down.  She is always singing about the rainbows.  She doesn’t even see the rain.

So when I heard my son trying to be stoic I worried that he would shut down and not let this make him more whole.

And when I heard my little girl sobbing in fear and pain I didn’t know if my heart could hold that.  Because I have never heard her feel like.  She is growing up and I worry which way she will use this.  Will she allow this to shine inside to where she sees the beauty of life and death?  Or will this harden her?

Jesus, please be with my children tonight.  Please be with my co-parent.  And please carry my dog’s life essence into Your arms and hold her close to You.  Hold them all close to you Lord.  Amen.  

Sunshine Through The Rain

One of my friends wrote to me.  She has been in a deep dark depression for months now.  Maybe that is why her words meant so much to me.  They were like sunshine through the rain.  I feel so much better now and I believe that is in part because of her words.  I hope that maybe they will bring you comfort as well.

I am so very sorry to hear that you’re feeling so depressed and unhappy right now.  I hope that I can provide some comfort and support to you as you have so generously done for me.

I doubt that anything I say will make you feel better, but I will try.

I compare fighting depression (and other mental/emotional disorders) with the life of Christ.  Right now, you are in the Garden of Gethsemane, on your knees, praying that this cup will depart from you, but nevertheless, willing what the Father wills.  Believe and accept that the Spirit is with you in this time of despair, and that He will keep you with Him always.  Perhaps from Gethsemane you will journey, not for the first time, to Golgotha and will experience the pain and  misery and feelings of abandonment at that place, much as our Lord did.  Sometimes we are even led to the Tomb and the darkness, silence, and fear of that place.  But we also are led to the Mount of Transfiguration and the glory of God that shone there, to the Raising of of Lazarus, and to the Most Holy and  Glorious Resurrection.  Our lives are not mirrored by Christ’s, but His by ours.  In my own prayer life, I have been shown that we suffer not because the Lord suffered; rather, we suffered the Garden, Golgotha, and the Tomb first, and He in his mercy, love, and desire to raise our nature above these unnatural things, joined us on this  journey.

When you were baptized and chrismated, you were made a holy offering, a temple unto the Lord and He is enthroned in your very heart.  Every beat of it is a hymn of thanksgiving and every breath you take is a song to the victory of life everlasting.  Your very existence is God’s Holy Will.  He deliberately fashioned you so that you may be with Him, and all who believe on Him, into eternity, in a life that will never end, a life that will show forth the glory, majesty, and beauty that is the human being, body and soul. 

The Evil One is a coward.  He and his kind attack from the shadows, sneaking up behind us and drawing our heart’s blood with their arrows of despair.  They have not the courage nor the will to face us in the fullness of the Light, because they fear our Lord and Protection, Mighty Christ God.  Sometimes, when I am most lost in my sadness and ready to give up, I cry out that I reject the Evil One’s attempts to draw me away from the Light and I place myself under the protection of the Lion of Judah; He will not allow even the littlest of us to fall away, if our hearts truly seek Him. 

I don’t know if any of this will help you or offer strength, but it’s what I have to offer, and I give it with love.  Some of this comes from my innermost heart; I hope it isn’t off-putting or strident.  It’s not meant to be.  It’s simply what I feel and believe in the deepest depths of my soul.

Please let me know how you’re doing, and remember that you are in my thoughts and prayers always, both as a friend and fellow woman, but most importantly, as a Sister in Christ.

Abuse

I grew up with two alcoholic parents.  I was verbally abused.  And my brother and I were physically abusive to each other constantly.

I have been trying all day to talk to you about this.  I just don’t know how to share with you how I feel.  I can’t cut my parents off and I can’t just spit in my brother’s face.  But they hurt me still to this day with almost every word that comes out of their mouth.

When I am mistreated I go into a deep depression or I get manic.  And then I think about killing myself.  So basically those are toxic relationships that run the risk of killing me.

I don’t know what to do.

Housekeeping

When I am depressed it is hard for me to get the housework done.  I look around and see what needs to be done but I just don’t do it.  The weird thing is that my house used to be spotless.  That was before the Lamictal.  Then I calmed down and now I can’t seem to get anything done.  That nervous energy that used to drive me on has relaxed.  What a drag.

Now I look around and sometimes I don’t care and other times I am just shocked at how bad it has gotten.

Before you label me a pig and my home a sty let me let you in on a secret.  My house is actually not bad at all.  But my mother… well, my mother still lives in my head and is always looking over my shoulder, and she is not pleased with the house.  And that is an understatement by far.

I was just talking to my undiagnosed bipolar mother the other day.  She works outside of the home three days a week and then she spends the other two work days trying to kill herself by working herself to death at the house.  Then over the weekend she is so worn out and depressed that she drinks herself silly and then it starts all over again on Monday.

Here is what she does everyday, no matter what.  She cleans the two bathrooms from top to bottom, she empties all of the trashcans, she makes the kitchen immaculate, she makes their bed until there are no wrinkles, everything is in it’s place, the laundry is done and put away.  Then on her days off she does the rest of the laundry, changes the bedsheets, mops all of the floors, cleans the bathrooms extra special even though she already cleaned them every day, vacuums extra special, does all the errands, grocery shops, etc.

I remember growing up and she would bring in the groceries and then wash the canned goods off before lining them up special in the cupboard.  There is never a spot in her oven or on her stove.  There is absolutely no dust to be found even on the highest pieces of furniture.  There are no hairs in the bathroom and the only ring you will find in the bathroom is blue from all of the Ajax she has used every day.

How can I compete with that?  Well, the absolute truth is that I can’t ever compete with that.  I don’t want to, in theory.  But the imaginary her wants me to.  Oh sure, when I talk to her she says she doesn’t want me too, but lets get real.  She does.  Because she does it.  And so that makes it right.

Where am I going with this?  I guess I am thinking that all five of us (yes, even the three year old) need to spend Saturday cleaning.  I want to play just like they do, but I can’t keep the house clean and I need to make my mom shut the hell up.